LIBRARY 

UNIVMSITY  OF 

SAN  Ot£0O 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
JIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIFGO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 

IVERSON  AND  HELEN  HARRIS 

donor 


Hand  in  hand  they  went  running  home 


IMMENSEE 


BV 

THEODOR    STORM 


TRANSLATED   BT  BERTHA  M.    SCHIMMELFENNIG 


NEW    YORK 

THOMAS   Y.    CROWELL  &   CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  190* 
BY  THOMAS  Y.  CROWELL  &  COMPANS-. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOE 

I.  THE  OLD  MAN 1 

II.  THE  CHILDREX 

III.  Ix  THE  WOODS 6 

IV.  WHEX  Lo !  THE  CHILD  STOOD  BY  HIM     .  14 
V.  AT  HOME 21 

VI.  A  LETTER 26 

VII.  IMMEXSEE 27 

VIII.  MY  MOTHER  WILLED  IT  so 35 

IX.  ELISABETH •  41 

X.  THE  OLD  MAX 46 


PREFACE.1 


NOT  only  is  "Immensee"  the  story  by  which  Theodor 
Storm  achieved  his  first  great  success,  but  it  is  still  the 
one  by  which  he  is  best  known  to  the  reading  public.  It 
appeared  in  1854  in  the  form  of  a  pretty  booklet  and  was 
so  thoroughly  appreciated  that  in  1888  it  had  reached  its 
thirty-first  edition. 

Its  author  was  born  in  the  year  1817,  in  Husum,  "  The 
gray  city  by  the  sea,"  to  which  his  muse  pays  tribute,  and 
that,  as  he  tells  us,  he  loved  so  well.  For  generations  it 
had  been  the  home  of  his  mother's  people,  and  here  stood 
the  venerable  Storm  house  of  which  our  author  gives  us 
so  many  a  glimpse  in  his  minute  and  almost  loving  de- 
scriptions of  the  homes  where  dwell  the  old  people  he 
delights  to  portray,  that  the  careful  reader  can  almost 
reconstruct  it  in  imagination. 

In  the  houses  of  these  old  North  German  families  there 
are  not  wont  to  be  sudden  changes,  but  one  long-lived 
generation  slips  away  and  is  replaced  by  another  without 
any  rude  upsetting  of  time-honored  customs  and  sur- 
roundings. Family  traditions  are  as  carefully  preserved 
and  handed  down  as  are  the  caskets  and  chests  that  hold 
the  jewels  and  bridal  gown  of  some  old  ancestress.  Each 
generation  is  familiar  with  the  deeds  and  events  of  the 
one  before  it,  and  the  son  not  only  knows  his  father's 

1  For  the  literary  estimate  in  the  following,  Erich  Schmidt  In  "  Charakter- 
istiken  "  is  the  chief  authority. 


vi  PREFACE. 

life  story  and  tells  it  to  his  son  in  turn,  but  the  great 
events  and  small,  the  wise  sayings  and  the  merry,  of 
each  one  are  remembered  and  told.  And  so  it  comes 
that  here  a  picture  and  a  name  are  not,  as  is  so  often  the 
case  elsewhere,  all  that  remain  of  these  old  ancestors,  for 
they  live  in  the  memory  of  the  men  and  women  of  to-day. 
In  the  ancient  rooms  where  ancestral  furniture  stands  in 
inoffensive  proximity  to  that  of  modern  design,  the  spirits 
of  by-gone  generations  seem  still  to  linger  and  make  their 
influence  for  piety  and  loyalty  felt  through  the  stories 
and  pictures  that  these  old  heirlooms  recall  in  the  minds 
of  the  thoughtful  who  gaze  upon  them. 

As  this  brief  allusion  to  family  tradition  may  be  con- 
ducive to  a  better  understanding  and  appreciation  of  the 
author  and  his  work,  so  also  may  a  few  events  of  his  life. 
His  higher  education,  begun  at  the  "  Gymnasium  "  at 
Luebeck,  was  completed  at  the  universities  of  Kiel  and 
Berlin.  The  law  was  his  chosen  profession,  as  it  was 
that  of  his  father,  and  he  practised  it  with  gratifying 
success  for  the  greater  part  of  his  long  life.  His  career 
as  a  lawyer  in  his  native  town  was,  however,  early  brought 
to  a  close  by  the  long  and  at  last  active  struggle  that  the 
duchies  of  Schleswig  and  Holstein  waged  against  the 
galling  oppression  of  the  Dane,  a  struggle  in  which 
Storm  was  no  lukewarm  partisan.  As  a  result  he  felt 
constrained  to  leave  the  home  of  his  childhood,  and  did 
not  return  to  it  until  it  had  become  a  part  of  the  king- 
dom of  Prussia.  Then,  abandoning  the  judicial  position 
he  held  under  the  Prussian  government,  he  took  up  his 
abode  in  his  beloved  Husum  again,  where  he  remained 
until  1880,  when  he  bade  farewell  to  it  and  his  public 
career  and  retired  to  the  little  village  of  Hademarschen, 
in  Holstein.  Here,  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  he  founded 


PREFACE.  vil 

a  new  home,  and  with  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  looked 
forward  to  many  years  of  life  in  it,  years  in  which  no 
exacting  demands  of  government  service  would  interfere 
with  his  entire  devotion  to  his  chosen  muse;  and  here, 
in  1888,  he  was  laid  at  rest. 

His  marriage  with  the  woman  of  his  choice,  a  lady  as 
lovable  as  she  was  beautiful,  insured  to  him  a  happy 
wedded  life,  which  in  time  was  blessed  by  both  sons  and 
daughters. 

It  is  not  in  his  own  love  life,  therefore,  but  rather  in 
the  bitter  disappointments  he  suffered  through  his  ardent 
but  unrequited  devotion  to  his  country's  long  unsuccess- 
ful cause  that  we  must  seek  the  reason  for  that  strain  of 
gentle  resignation,  as  well  as  heartfelt  sympathy  with 
unsatisfied  love,  that  is  so  marked  a  feature  in  a  large 
group  of  his  writings,  notably  the  earlier  ones,  and  of 
which  "  Immensee  "  is  typical.  In  them  the  old  theme 
of  "to  have  loved  and  lost"  is  sounded  in  many  and 
touching  variations,  and,  as  our  author's  method  is  pref- 
erably that  of  retrospection,  we  meet  his  heroes  and 
heroines  in  the  evening  of  life  when,  from  the  stand- 
point of  an  achieved  aim,  whicli  is  seldom  the  one  set  in 
the  first  flush  of  youth,  the  disappointments  and  passion 
of  life  appear  in  a  subdued  and  mellow  light  to  the  clari- 
fied vision  of  age. 

Storm  is  past  master  in  the  art  of  portraying  by  a  few 
suggestive  incidents  or  pictures,  leaving  much  to  the 
imagination  of  the  reader;  but,  although  the  execution 
is  meagre,  he  has  in  a  rare  degree  the  power  of  making 
us  feel  rather  than  hear  the  life-story  he  depicts.  In  his 
presentation  of  the  kindly  old  people,  which  is  a  neces- 
sary part  of  the  retrospective  method,  he  is  unsurpassed. 
In  "  Immensee  "  all  the  long-lost  youth  of  the  old  savant 


VI 11  PREFACE. 

returns  to  him  in  his  reverie,  and  we  share  it  with  him 
in  the  successive  sketches  that  the  author  gives  us  of  it, 
always  with  a  lapse  of  years  between.  "  Again  years 
had  passed  "  is  a  phrase  we  often  meet  in  his  stories. 

But  that  Storm  can  also  write  in  merrier  mood  no  one 
will  dispute  who  has  read  his  humorous  little  sketch 
"  When  Apples  are  Ripe,"  or  "  The  Little  Hawelmann," 
or  his  poem  about  the  nine-aud-forty  kittens. 

In  but  one  instance  does  Storm  take  his  readers  be- 
yond the  confines  of  his  native  Germany ;  the  people  we 
meet  in  his  stories  are  those  he  saw  about  him  in  his 
every-day  life,  and  with  careful  realism  he  surrounds 
them  with  their  own  atmosphere,  and  almost  lovingly 
pictures  for  us  the  homes  in  which  they  move  and  have 
their  being,  wherein  he  not  infrequently  reminds  us  of 
Dickens.  From  the  house  he  takes  us  into  the  garden, 
old-fashioned  and  stiff,  or  more  according  to  modern 
ideas  which  give  both  people  and  plants  greater  free- 
dom ;  from  the  garden  he  conducts  us  to  the  fields  and 
woods  where,  with  his  great  love  of  nature,  he  sees  and 
hears  even  in  the  meagrest  surroundings  that  which  his 
masterly  descriptions  compel  us  to  appreciate  and  enjoy. 

During  his  last  years  our  author  developed  a  power 
of  which  his  earlier  stories  give  no  hint ;  the  tone  of 
melancholy  resignation  disappears  more  and  more,  and 
his  characters  show  the  spirit  that  masters  fate,  or 
breaks  in  the  striving.  He  now  reveals  to  us  the  darker 
side  of  life  which,  up  to  this  time,  he  carefully  spared 
the  reader.  Of  this  group,  "  Aqua  Submersus "  is  the 
most  noteworthy  example,  and,  as  in  others  of  this 
class,  the  scene  is  laid  in  an  earlier  century ;  to  picture 
correctly  these  remoter  times  and  customs  the  author 
changed  his  style  entirely. 


PREFACE.  ix 

In  our  appreciation  of  Storm  as  a  prose  writer  we  must 
not,  as  the  reading  public  is  too  much  inclined  to  do,  forget 
to  pay  tribute  to  his  great  merits  as  a  poet.  His  verse  is 
among  the  most  delightful  and  noble  that  German  litera- 
ture has  produced  since  the  days  of  Goethe,  and  although 
the  minor  tones  that  pervade  so  many  of  his  stories  are 
often  heard  here  too,  they  are  not  so  general  and  the 
themes  are  more  varied.  All  the  tender  notes  of  love  as 
well  as  the  grander  strains  of  patriotism  he  voices  as  do 
few  others,  for,  upright  in  his  art  as  in  his  life,  his  poems 
give  utterance  only  to  that  which  he  himself  has  felt  and 
experienced,  and  so  stand  as  a  living  testimony  of  his 
inner  life. 

HELEXE  SCHIMMELFENNIG  WHITE. 

APRIL,  1902. 


IMMENSEE. 


i. 

THE    OLD    MAN. 

ON  the  afternoon  of  a  day  late  in  autumn  a  weil- 
dressed  old  gentleman  might  have  been  seen  slowly 
coming  down  the  street.  He  was  evidently  returning 
from  a  long  walk,  for  his  shoes,  whose  broad  buckles 
proclaimed  them  of  a  bygone  fashion,  were  covered 
with  dust,  and  a  long,  gold-headed  walking-stick  of 
bamboo  was  thrust  under  one  arm.  His  dark  eyes, 
into  which  all  his  long-lost  youth  seemed  to  have  taken 
refuge,  and  which  contrasted  strangely  with  his  snowy 
hair,  rested  with  quiet  interest  upon  the  objects  about 
him,  or  wandered  to  the  town  that  lay  before  him  in 
the  golden  haze  of  sunset.  He  seemed  to  be  almost  a 
stranger,  for  but  few  of  the  passers-by  exchanged  greet- 
ings with  him,  although  the  dark,  grave  eyes  compelled 
the  gaze  of  most  of  them. 

At  last  he  stopped  before  a  high  gabled  house,  and 
after  another  glance  toward  the  town  beyond  stepped 
upon  the  threshold.  At  the  sound  of  the  door-bell  some 
one  within  drew  aside  the  green  curtain  from  a  little 
window  that  gave  a  view  of  the  door,  and  the  face  of  an 
old  woman  appeared.  The  old  man  beckoned  to  her 
with  his  cane,  and  instantly  the  curtain  dropped  back 
into  place. 

1 


2  IMMENSEE. 

"  No  lights  yet  ? "  he  said  in  a  slightly  southern 
accent  as  the  housekeeper  opened  the  door  for  him. 

Passing  through  the  wide  vestibule,  the  old  man 
entered  a  broad  hall  where  tall  cases  of  heavy  oak  on 
which  stood  porcelain  vases  lined  the  walls  ;  through  a 
door  opposite  he  stepped  into  a  smaller  hall  from  which 
a  narrow  flight  of  stairs  led  up  to  the  rooms  in  the  back 
part  of  the  house.  Slowly  he  mounted  these  and  on 
arriving  at  the  top  unlocked  a  door  which  brought  him 
into  a  room  of  moderate  size.  It  was  a  quiet,  cosy 
place  ;  one  wall  was  almost  entirely  occupied  by  book 
and  curio  cases ;  on  another  hung  many  pictures  of 
places  and  people  ;  there  was  a  table  with  a  green  cover, 
and  on  it  lay  a  number  of  open  books,  while  beside  it 
stood  a  great  armchair  with  red  velvet  cushions. 

After  the  old  man  had  set  his  hat  and  cane  in  one 
corner  of  the  room,  he  seated  himself  in  the  chair,  and 
folding  his  hands,  seemed  to  be  resting  from  the  exertion 
of  his  walk.  As  he  sat  thus  it  gradually  grew  dark ; 
after  a  while  the  moonlight  stole  in  at  one  of  the  win- 
dows and  fell  upon  the  pictures  on  the  opposite  wall ;  as 
the  pale  band  of  light  crept  slowly  onward  the  old  man's 
eyes  involuntarily  followed.  Now  it  touched  a  small 
portrait  in  a  plain  black  frame.  "  Elisabeth,"  said  the 
old  man  softly,  and  as  he  spoke  the  word,  all  seemed 
changed ;  his  youth  had  returned  to  him. 


THE   CHILDREN. 


II. 
THE    CHILDREN. 

SOON  a  dainty  little  maid  came  tripping  up  to  him. 
Her  name  was  Elisabeth.  She  was  about  five  years  old; 
he  himself  was  just  twice  that  age.  About  her  throat 
was  knotted  a  red  silk  kerchief  which  was  very  becom- 
ing to  her  with  her  dark  brown  eyes. 

"Reinhard  !  "  she  cried,  "  we  've  a  holiday,  a  holiday ! 
No  school  all  day,  nor  to-morrow  either  !  " 

Reinhard  quickly  took  his  slate  from  under  his  arm 
and  set  it  down  behind  the  door ;  then  the  two  children 
ran  out  of  the  house  into  the  garden  and  through  the 
gate  into  the  meadow  beyond.  This  unexpected  holiday 
was  a  most  delightful  surprise  to  them. 

With  Elisabeth's  help  Reinhard  had  built  a  house  of 
turf  out  here ;  they  meant  to  live  in  it  during  the  long 
summer  evenings,  but  as  yet  there  was  no  seat  in  it. 
Reinhard  now  set  to  work  at  once  to  make  a  bench,  for 
the  boards,  nails,  and  hammer  were  already  there. 
Meanwhile  Elisabeth  wandered  along  the  embankment 
gathering  the  round,  flat  seeds  of  the  wild  mallow  into 
her  little  apron ;  she  was  going  to  make  necklaces  and 
bracelets  for  herself  out  of  them.  And  so,  when  Rein- 
hard  had  at  last  finished  his  bench  in  spite  of  many  a 
crookedly  driven  nail,  and  stepped  out  into  the  bright 
sunshine,  the  little  maid  was  far  away  at  the  other  end 
of  the  meadow. 

"  Elisabeth !  "  he  called.    "  Elisabeth  !  " 


4  IMMENSEE. 

Then  she  came  running  back,  her  curls  blowing  in  the 
wind. 

"  Come,"  said  he,  "  our  house  is  done.  Why,  how  hot 
you  are !  Come  in ;  we  will  try  our  new  bench  and  I 
will  tell  you  a  story." 

Then  the  two  children  went  in  and  sat  down  on  the 
new  bench.  Elisabeth  took  her  little  mallow  rings  out 
of  her  apron  and  strung  them  on  long  threads.  Rein- 
hard  began  his  story  :  — 

"  Once  upon  a  time  there  were  three  old  spinning- 
women  "  — 

"  Oh,"  said  Elisabeth,  "  I  know  that  one  by  heart. 
You  must  n't  tell  the  same  stories  over  and  over 
again." 

And  so  Reinhard  had  to  give  up  the  story  of  the  three 
old  spinning-women,  and  instead,  he  told  about  the  un- 
fortunate man  who  was  cast  into  the  lions'  den.  "  And 
now  the  night  had  come  on,"  he  was  saying ;  "  it  was 
awfully  dark,  don't  you  know,  and  the  lions  were  asleep. 
But  now  and  then  they  yawned  in  their  sleep  and  showed 
their  red  tongues ;  then  the  poor  man  shuddered  and 
thought  the  morning  was  near.  All  at  once  a  bright 
light  fell  on  him,  and  when  he  looked  up  he  saw  an 
angel  standing  before  him.  The  angel  beckoned  him  to 
follow,  and  then  went  straight  into  the  rocks." 

Elisabeth  had  listened  very  attentively.  tl  An  angel  ?  " 
she  said.  "  And  did  it  have  wings  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  a  story,"  was  Reinhard's  answer ;  "  for 
of  course  there  are  no  angels." 

"  Oh,  fie,  Reinhard  !  "  she  cried,  and  looked  defiantly 
up  at  him.     But  when  he  frowned  back  at  her,  she  asked 
a  little  doubtfully :  "  Why,  then,  do  they  always  tell  us 
about  them  —  mother  and  aunty,  and  at  school,  too  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know,"  was  his  answer. 


THE   CHILDREN.  5 

"  But,  Reinhard,"  said  Elisabeth,  "  are  there,  then,  no 
real  lions,  either  ?  " 

"  Lions  ?  Real  lions  ?  Oh,  yes  ;  in  India.  There  the 
priests  of  the  idol-worshippers  harness  them  to  their 
chariots  and  drive  through  the  desert  with  them.  Some 
day  when  I  am  grown  up  I  am  going  there.  It  is  a  thou- 
sand times  more  beautiful  there  than  it  is  here  at  home ; 
there  is  no  winter  there.  You  must  go  with  me.  Will 
you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Elisabeth,  "  but  mother  must  go  with  us, 
and  your  mother,  too." 

"  No,"  said  Reinhard ;  "  they  will  be  too  old  by  that 
time  ;  they  can't  go." 

"  But  I  can't  go  alone." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can  ;  you  will  really  be  my  wife  by  that 
time,  and  then  the  others  will  have  nothing  to  say  about 
it." 

"  But  mother  will  cry." 

"  Oh,  we  shall  come  back,"  said  Reinhard,  impatiently. 
"  Now  tell  me,  will  you  go  with  me  ?  If  not,  I  shall  go 
alone,  but  then  I  shall  never  come  back." 

The  little  girl  was  ready  to  cry.  "  Don't  look  at  me  so 
angrily,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  go  with  you  to  India." 

Reinhard  caught  her  hands  in  boisterous  glee  and  ran 
out  into  the  meadow  with  her.  "  To  India !  To  India  !  " 
he  sang,  and  whirled  her  about  with  him  until  her  little 
red  kerchief  became  untied  and  fluttered  from  her  neck. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  her  hands  and  said  very  gravely : 
"  Nothing  will  come  of  it,  after  all ;  you  have  n't  courage 
enough." 

"  Elisabeth !  Reinhard !  "  called  a  voice  from  the 
garden. 

"  Here  !  Here  ! "  answered  the  children,  and  hand  in 
hand  they  wept  running  home, 


1MMENSEE. 


111. 


IN    THE    WOODS. 

THUS  the  two  children  lived  together.  She  was  often 
too  quiet  for  his  taste,  he  was  often  too  quick-tempered 
for  her ;  but  they  held  to  each  other  nevertheless.  All 
their  play-time  was  spent  together  —  during  the  winter  in 
the  narrow  rooms  of  their  mothers,  during  the  summer 
in  wood  and  field. 

Once  when  the  schoolmaster  found  fault  with  Elisa- 
beth in  Reinhard's  presence,  the  boy  struck  his  slate 
angrily  against  his  desk  with  the  intention  of  diverting 
the  master's  attention  to  himself.  It  was  not  noticed, 
however ;  but  Reinhard  had  lost  all  interest  in  the  geog- 
raphy lesson,  and  instead,  wrote  a  long  poem  in  which  he 
represented  himself  as  a  young  eagle,  the  schoolmaster 
as  a  black  crow,  and  Elisabeth  as  a  white  dove ;  the  eagle 
vowed  to  take  vengeance  upon  the  black  crow  as  soon  as 
his  wings  had  grown  strong  enough.  Tears  filled  the 
young  poet's  eyes ;  he  felt  quite  exalted.  When  he  got 
home  he  managed  to  procure  a  small  parchment  folio  in 
which  there  were  many  white  pages  ;  on  the  first  of  these 
he  carefully  penned  his  first  poem. 

Soon  afterward  he  was  advanced  to  a  higher  school 
where  he  formed  many  new  friendships  with  boys  of 
his  own  age ;  but  he  did  not  allow  this  to  estrange 
him  from  Elisabeth.  Of  the  many  fairy  tales  he  had 
told  and  retold  her  he  now  began  to  write  down  those 
that  pleased  her  most  5  while  doing  so  he  often  felt 


IN  THE    WOODS.  7 

a  desire  to  weave  in  some  thoughts  of  his  own,  but 
somehow,  he  knew  not  why,  he  never  got  to  it.  And  so 
he  wrote  them  just  as  he  himself  had  heard  them.  He 
gave  the  sheets  to  Elisabeth,  who  laid  them  carefully 
away  in  the  drawer  of  her  little  writing  desk.  If  it  so 
happened  that  Reinhard  was  present  on  an  evening  when 
Elisabeth  read  some  of  these  stories  aloud  to  her  mother 
from  the  pages  he  had  written,  it  was  a  great  delight 
to  him. 

Seven  years  had  passed.  Reinhard  was  to  leave  his 
home  to  continue  his  studies  elsewhere.  Elisabeth  could 
not  get  used  to  the  thought  that  soon  there  were  to  be 
days  that  must  be  passed  without  Reinhard.  She  was 
glad  when  one  day  he  told  her  that  he  would  continue  to 
write  down  stories  for  her  as  usual,  and  that  he  would  en- 
close them  in  his  letters  to  his  mother ;  but,  he  added,  he 
would  expect  her  to  write  and  tell  him  how  she  liked  them. 

The  day  of  Reinhard's  departure  drew  rapidly  nearer ; 
before  it  arrived,  however,  many  a  new  poem  was  written 
in  the  folio.  The  little  book  and  its  contents  formed  the 
only  secret  he  kept  from  Elisabeth,  although  she  herself 
had  inspired  the  thought  of  it  as  well  as  most  of  the 
poems  that  gradually  came  to  fill  more  than  half  of  its 
white  pages. 

It  was  now  June,  and  on  the  morrow  Reinhard  was  to 
leave  his  home.  This  last  day  was  to  be  one  of  pleasant 
companionship  with  old  friends,  and  a  picnic  in  a  wood 
near  by  had  been  planned.  An  hour's  ride  brought  the 
merry  company  to  the  edge  of  the  woods ;  here  all 
alighted,  and  the  lunch  baskets  were  taken  out  of  the 
carriages,  for  the  rest  of  the  way  was  to  be  made  on  foot. 
The  road  first  led  through  a  pine  grove  where  a  cool 
twilight  reigned  and  the  ground  was  soft  with  a  carpet 


8  IMMENSEE. 

of  fine  pine-needles.  After  a  half-hour's  walk  they 
emerged  from  the  shadowy  gloom  of  the  pine  trees  into 
the  fresh  green  of  a  beech  wood  ;  here  all  was  light  and 
sunshine,  for  many  a  sunbeam  found  its  way  through 
the  leafy  branches  overhead  among  which  a  squirrel  was 
leaping  merrily. 

The  company  selected  a  place  under  a  group  of  tall 
and  ancient  beech  trees  whose  great  branches  interlaced 
to  form  a  leafy  roof  through  which  the  sunlight  glinted. 
Elisabeth's  mother  opened  one  of  the  baskets ;  an  old 
gentleman  assumed  the  office  of  quartermaster.  "  Here, 
all  you  young  people,"  he  cried,  "  stand  around  and 
listen  well  to  what  I  have  to  say.  For  breakfast  each 
of  you  is  now  to  have  two  unbuttered  rolls,  for  the 
butter  was  left  at  home ;  the  sauce  every  one  must  get 
for  himself.  There  are  plenty  of  strawberries  in  the 
woods  —  that  is,  for  all  who  know  how  to  find  them  ; 
those  who  are  not  smart  will  have  to  eat  their  bread 
without  sauce,  that  is  the  way  the  world  over.  Have 
you  caught  my  meaning  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed  !  "  shouted  the  young  people. 

"  Very  good  !  "  continued  the  old  man.  "  But  stop  ! 
I  have  not  finished.  We  old  folks  have  had  our  share 
of  roaming  about  the  world ;  so  we  will  stay  at  home, 
that  is,  here,  under  these  shady  trees  ;  meanwhile  we 
will  pare  the  potatoes,  kindle  the  fire,  and  set  the  table, 
and  at  noon  we  '11  not  forget  to  boil  the  eggs.  In  return 
for  all  this  we  shall  claim  half  of  all  the  strawberries 
you  gather,  so  that  we  may  have  a  dessert  to  serve  with 
our  dinner.  And  now,  away  with  you,  to  the  east  and  to 
the  west,  and  deal  honestly  with  us  ! " 

There  was  many  an  amused  or  roguish  glance  exchanged 
between  the  young  people. 


He  brought  her  safely  through  the  tangle 


IN  THE    WOODS.  9 

"  Hold  on  !  "  cried  the  old  gentleman  again.  "  Per- 
haps I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  those  of  you  who  find 
no  berries  need  deliver  none.  But  mark  me  well;  he 
who  brings  nothing  must  expect  nothing  from  the  old 
folks.  There  !  Now  you  've  had  good  advice  enough 
for  one  day,  and  if  you  get  berries  to  go  with  it,  you  '11 
do  very  well  for  to-day." 

The  young  people  fully  agreed  with  him,  and  at  once 
set  off  in  couples  for  the  woods. 

"Gome,  Elisabeth,"  said  Reinhard,  "I  know  where 
there  are  plenty  of  berries  ;  you  shall  not  have  to  eat 
your  bread  dry." 

Elisabeth  tied  the  ribbon  strings  of  her  hat  together 
and  hung  it  on  her  arm. 

"  Let 's  be  off,  then,"  said  she  ;  "  the  basket  is  ready." 

Then  the  two  went  into  the  woods,  farther  and  farther ; 
under  tall  trees  where  the  shadows  lay  deep,  and  it  was 
damp  and  cool  and  still  save  for  the  harsh  cry  of  the 
falcons  in  the  air  high  overhead;  then  through  close, 
tangled  brush  so  dense  that  Reinhard  had  to  go  ahead  to 
break  a  path,  drawing  a  vine  aside  here,  snapping  a  twig 
that  was  all  too  forward  yonder.  They  had  not  gone 
far  before  he  heard  Elisabeth  calling  him.  He  turned. 

"  Reinhard !  Reinhard  !  wait  for  me  ! "  she  cried. 

The  boy  looked,  but  he  could  not  see  her.  At  last  he 
discovered  her  some  distance  behind  him  struggling  with 
the  brambles,  her  dainty  head  just  visible  above  the 
tops  of  some  tall  brakes.  So  he  turned  back  and 
brought  her  safely  through  the  tangle  of  weeds  and 
briars  to  an  open  space  where  blue  butterflies  fluttered 
above  the  few  lonely  blossoms  of  the  woods. 

Reinhard  brushed  the  moist  ringlets  back  from  her  hot 
forehead  ;  then  he  wanted  to  tie  her  hat  on  for  her,  but 


10  IMMENSEE. 

she  would  not  allow  it ;  but  when  he  plead  with  her, 
she  gave  her  consent  after  all. 

"  Where  are  the  strawberries  ?  "  she  asked  at  last,  as 
she  stood  still  to  take  a  long  breath. 

"  Here  is  where  they  were,"  said  he,  "  but  the  toads 
have  been  here  before  us,  I  fear,  or  the  martins,  or,  per- 
haps, the  elves." 

"  Yes,"  said  Elisabeth,  "  I  see  the  leaves  yonder.  But 
do  not  speak  of  elves  here.  Come,  let  us  go  011 ;  I  am  not 
at  all  tired,  and  we  will  look  farther." 

Before  them  rippled  a  little  brook ;  beyond  it  the  woods 
began  again.  Reinhard  took  Elisabeth  in  his  arms  and 
carried  her  across.  By  and  by  they  left  the  leafy  shade 
behind  them  and  found  themselves  in  a  wide  clearing. 

"  There  must  be  strawberries  here,"  said  the  little  girl, 
"  the  air  is  sweet  with  them." 

They  went  searching  through  all  the  sunlit  space,  but 
they  found  none.  "  No,"  said  Reinhard,  "  it  is  only  the 
fragrance  of  the  blossoming  heath." 

Everywhere  tall  holly  and  raspberry  bushes  grew  in 
tangled  masses,  the  air  was  heavy  with  the  sweet  odor 
of  the  heath  that,  together  with  the  short  thick  grass, 
covered  every  open  space  between  the  bushes. 

"  It  is  very  lonely  here,"  said  Elisabeth.  "  I  wonder 
where  the  others  are." 

Reinhard  had  not  given  the  homeward  way  a  thought. 

"  Wait  a  minute  ;  which  way  is  the  wind  ?  "  said  he, 
as  he  held  up  one  hand.  But  there  was  no  wind. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  Elisabeth,  "  I  think  I  hear  voices.  Call 
in  that  direction." 

Reinhard  raised  his  hands  to  his  mouth  and  shouted : 
"  Come  this  way ! "  And  "  This  way "  came  a  faint 
reply. 


IN  THE    WOODS.  11 

"They  are  answering,"  cried  Elisabeth,  and  clapped 
her  hands  with  joy. 

"Xo,  it  was  nobody ;  only  the  echo." 

Elisabeth  slipped  her  hand  into  Reinhard's.  "I'm 
afraid,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no!  you  mustn't  be,"  said  the  boy.  "It  is 
lovely  here.  Sit  down  on  the  grass  over  yonder  in  the 
shade,  and  let  us  rest  awhile  ;  we  '11  find  the  others  easily 
enough." 

Elisabeth  seated  herself  under  the  overhanging  bough 
of  a  tall  beech  tree  and  listened  eagerly  in  every  direc- 
tion. Reinhard  sat  a  few  paces  off  on  the  fallen  trunk 
of  a  tree  and  looked  at  her  in  silence.  The  sun  was  in 
the  zenith ;  the  air  was  aglow  with  the  heat  of  noon ;  tiny, 
glittering,  steel-blue  flies  hung  motionless  in  the  air  on 
quivering  wing;  from  all  around  came  a  soft  whirr  and 
buzz,  with  now  and  then  the  sound  of  a  woodpecker's 
hammering,  or  the  cry  of  a  wild  bird  from  the  deeper 
shade  of  the  woods  beyond. 

"  Hark,"  said  Elisabeth,  "  I  hear  bells." 

"  Where  ?  "  asked  Reinhard. 

''Behind  us.  Don't  you  hear  them?  It  is  twelve 
o'clock." 

"  Then  the  town  is  over  yonder,  and  if  we  go  straight 
ahead  in  this  direction  we  must  come  upon  the  others." 

The  homeward  way  was  now  begun ;  they  had  given 
up  their  search  for  strawberries,  for  Elisabeth  was  tired. 
At  length  they  heard  the  sound  of  laughter  from  beyond 
a  group  of  trees  just  ahead  of  them;  then  they  saw  the 
gleam  of  a  white  cloth  that  was  spread  upon  the  grass ; 
it  was  the  dinner-table,  and  on  it  were  strawberries  in 
abundance.  The  old  gentleman  had  a  napkin  tucked  in 
his  button-hole,  and  while  he  was  energetically  carving 


12  IMMENSE E. 

a  roast,  found  time  to  continue  his  moral  lecture  of  the 
morning. 

"  There  are  the  tardy  ones !  "  cried  some  of  the  young 
people  when  they  caught  sight  of  Reinhard  and  Elisa- 
beth coming  from  among  the  more  distant  trees. 

"  This  way  ! "  shouted  the  old  gentleman.  "  Empty 
your  bags  and  turn  out  what's  in  your  hats,  and  let  us 
see  what  you  've  brought  back." 

"  Only  a  good  appetite  and  thirst,"  said  Reinhard. 

"  If  that  is  all,  you  may  keep  them,"  was  the  old  man's 
reply  as  he  pointed  to  the  well-filled  dish  of  berries. 
ci  You  know  the  usual  notice :  '  I^o  idlers  fed  here.'  " 

But  after  some  pleading  he  relented,  and  the  merry 
dinner  was  begun  while  a  thrush  sang  his  sweet  song  in 
the  bough  of  a  spruce  tree  not  far  away. 

So  the  happy  day  passed,  and  although  Reinhard  had 
found  no  strawberries,  he  had  after  all  brought  some- 
thing back  with  him,  something  that  he  had  found  in  the 
woods.  That  evening  he  got  out  his  old  parchment  folio 
and  on  one  of  its  pages  wrote : 

Here  in  the  shady  valley 
The  wind  forgets  to  blow ; 
Above,  the  leaves  hang  idly, 
The  wee  maid  sits  below. 

In  bed  of  thyme  she  sits  there, 
She  sits  in  fragrance  rare; 
The  blue  flies  buzz  around  her, 
Their  wings  flash  through  the  air. 

The  wood  stands  wrapt  in  silence, 
'T  is  there  her  wise  eyes  rest ; 
But 't  is  her  soft  brown  ringlets 
The  sunbeams  love  the  best. 


IN  THE    WOODS.  13 

The  cuckoo's  call  sounds  distant  — 
The  thought  steals  over  me  : 
"  Her  wide  eyes,  brown  and  golden, 
The  wood-nymph's  eyes  must  be." 

And  so  Elisabeth  was  not  only  his  little  protegee,  but 
she  had  come  to  be  to  him  the  embodiment  of  all  that 
was  sweet  and  mysterious  in  his  expanding  young  life. 


14  IMMENSEE. 


IV. 
WHEN    LO  !    THE    CHILD    STOOD    BY    HIM. 

IT  was  Christmas  eve.  Late  in  the  afternoon  Rein- 
hard,  with  some  fellow-students,  was  sitting  at  an  old 
oak  table  in  the  Ratskeller.1  The  lamps  along  the  walls 
were  lighted,  for  down  here  the  twilight  came  early; 
there  were  but  few  guests,  and  the  waiters  were  leaning 
idly  against  the  brick  pillars.  In  one  corner  of  the  great 
vaulted  room  sat  a  fiddler  and  a  zither-player,  a  young 
girl  with  a  delicate,  gypsy  face  ;  their  instruments  lay  in 
their  laps  while  their  eyes  wandered  listlessly  about. 

From  the  table  where  sat  the  students  came  the  sound 
of  a  popping  champagne  bottle. 

"  Drink,  my  little  Bohemian  sweetheart !  "  cried  a 
young  man,  whose  appearance  was  that  of  a  young  noble- 
man, as  he  held  a  brimming  glass  toward  the  young  girl. 

"  I  don't  want  it,"  said  she,  without  changing  her 
position. 

"  Then  sing  us  a  song ! "  cried  the  young  man,  as  he 
tossed  a  silver  coin  into  her  lap.  The  girl  slowly  passed 
her  hand  over  her  dark  hair,  while  the  fiddler  whispered 
something  to  her ;  but  she  threw  back  her  head  and  rest- 
ing her  chin  on  her  zither  said  :  — 

"  No,  I  '11  not  play  for  him." 

With  his  glass  in  his  hand  Reinhard  jumped  to  his  feet 
and  stood  before  the  girl. 

'A  public  wine-room  in  the  basement  or  cellar-room  of  the  Knthaua  (court- 
house). In  almost  every  large  German  city  there  is  a  Ratakeller,  especially  in 
the  university  towns.  —  TRANSLATOR. 


"  What  do  you  want?  "  she  asked  defiantly 


WHEN  LO!    THE   CHILD   STOOD   BY   HIM.        15 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  asked  defiantly. 
"  To  look  into  your  eyes,"  said  he. 
"  What  are  niy  eyes  to  you  ?" 

AVith  a  burning  glance  Reinhard  looked  down  at  her. 
"  I  know  well  enough  they  are  evil  eyes  ! " 
She  laid  her  cheek  in  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  gave 
him  a  watchful  glance  from  under  her  dark  lashes.    Rein- 
hard  raised  his  glass  to  his  lips  :  "  To  your  beautiful, 
wicked  eyes  ! "  he  cried,  and  drank. 

She  laughed  and  turned  her  face  toward  him.  "  Give 
it  to  me  ! "  she  said,  and  with  her  black  eyes  riveted  on 
his,  she  slowly  drained  the  glass.  Then  she  snatched  a 
chord  on  her  zither  and  in  a  low  and  passionate  voice 
sang  : 

"•  So  fair  of  face  am  I 
But  a  day,  a  day  ; 
To-morrow,  to-morrow 
It  all  fades  away. 
For  only  this  hour 
Art  thou  mine  own ; 
Too  soon  I  must  die, 
And  die  alone." 

While  the  fiddler  played  a  rapid  interlude  a  newcomer 
joined  the  little  group. 

"  You  had  gone  when  I  called  for  you  at  your  room, 
Reinhard,"  he  said.  "  But  I  found  that  Christmas  had 
entered  there  before  me." 

"  Christmas  ! "  said  Reinhard.  "  There  is  no  Christ- 
mas for  me  nowadays." 

"Oh,  pshaw  !  Your  whole  room  was  filled  with  the 
odor  of  Christmas-trees  and  brown  cakes." 

Reinhard  set  down  his  glass  and  took  up  his  cap. 

«  What  now  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 


16  IMMENSE  E. 

"Oh,  I  'in  coming  back." 

She  frowned.  "  Stay  !  "  she  said  softly,  with  a  familiar 
glance  up  at  him. 

Reinhard  hesitated.     "  I  can't,"  he  said. 

She  laughed  and  touched  him  with  the  tip  of  her  boot 
as  she  said :  "  Go  on,  then.  You  're  not  worth  much ; 
you  are  none  of  you  good  for  anything !  "  and,  as  she 
turned  away,  Reinhard  went  slowly  up  the  stairs  and 
into  the  street. 

Out  of  doors  it  was  almost  dark;  the  fresh  winter 
air  blew  against  his  hot  forehead.  Through  a  window 
here  and  there  fell  the  bright  light  from  the  burning 
candles  of  a  Christinas  tree,  while  the  sound  of  little 
whistles  and  tin  trumpets,  mingled  with  the  merry 
shouts  of  happy  children,  reached  him  now  and  then. 
Little  bands  of  begging  children  went  from  house  to 
house,  or,  climbing  upon  the  railing  of  the  stone  steps, 
tried  to  look  through  the  windows  and  so  get  at  least  a 
glimpse  of  all  the  splendor  that  was  not  for  them. 
Occasionally,  too,  a  door  was  thrown  open,  and  a  scolding 
voice  drove  the  unwelcome  little  visitors  away  from  the 
brightly  lighted  house  into  the  dark  street  beyond. 
From  within  one  closed  entrance  came  the  familiar  air 
of  an  old  Christmas  carol  in  which  clear  girlish  voices 
rang  out  above  the  others.  Reinhard  paid  no  heed  to 
them,  but  passed  quickly  on  from  one  street  into  another. 

It  had  grown  quite  dark  when  he  reached  his  lodging- 
house  ;  he  stumbled  up  the  stairs  and  stepped  into  his 
room.  A  sweet  odor  greeted  him.  He  felt  as  though  he 
were  at  home,  for  it  was  the  familiar  odor  that  pervaded 
his  mother's  rooms  at  Christmas  time.  With  trembling 
hand  he  struck  a  light ;  yes,  there  on  the  table  lay  a 
large  package  aiid?  as  he  opened  it?  out  fell  the  well- 


WHEN  LO !    THE   CHILD   STOOD   BY  HIM.        17 

known  brown  Christmas  cakes.  A  few  of  them  were 
ornamented  with  his  initials  in  frosting;  none  other 
than  Elisabeth  could  have  done  that.  Then  he  dis- 
covered a  smaller  package ;  it  contained  daintily  em- 
broidered linen  —  neckties,  handkerchiefs,  and  cuffs; 
last  of  all  he  found  two  letters,  one  from  his  mother 
and  one  from  Elisabeth.  Reinhard  opened  the  one  from 
Elisabeth  first,  and  read :  — 

"The  fine  frosted  letters  will  tell  you  well  enough 
who  it  was  that  helped  with  the  cakes ;  the  same  person 
embroidered  the  cuffs  for  you.  This  will  be  a  very  quiet 
Christmas  for  us  here  at  home ;  mother  always  sets  her 
spinning-wheel  aside  as  early  as  half-past  nine  now ;  it 
has  been  very  lonely  here  this  winter  without  you.  And 
now  the  linnet  you  gave  me  is  dead,  too ;  it  died  last 
Sunday.  I  cried  bitterly ;  but  I  really  did  take  good 
care  of  it.  The  little  fellow  always  sang  so  merrily  in 
the  afternoon  when  the  sun  shone  on  him.  Do  you  re- 
member how  mother  always  hung  a  cloth  over  his  cage 
to  silence  him  when  he  sang  so  loud  ?  And  so  the  room 
is  more  quiet  than  ever  now,  except  that  your  old  friend, 
Erich,  comes  to  see  us  occasionally.  You  once  said  that 
he  looked  like  his  brown  overcoat ;  I  always  think  of  it 
when  I  see  him  at  the  door,  and  it  is  so  funny.  But  you 
must  n't  tell  mother,  for  I  think  it  would  displease  her. 

"  Guess  what  I  am  going  to  give  your  mother  for 
Christmas.  You  can't  guess  ?  Myself!  Erich  is  doing 
my  picture  in  crayon.  I  sat  three  times  for  him,  a 
whole  hour  at  a  time.  The  thought  that  a  stranger 
should  learn  to  know  my  face  so  well  was  distasteful 
to  me,  and  so  I  refused  at  first ;  but  mother  persuaded 
me,  saying  that  the  picture  would  be  such  a  pleasure  to 
good  Frau  Werner. 


18  IMMENSEE. 

"  But  you  are  not  keeping  your  word,  Eeinhard ;  you 
have  sent  me  no  fairy-tales.  I  have  often  complained  of 
it  to  your  mother,  and  she  always  says  that  you  have 
too  much  to  do  now  to  spend  your  time  on  such  childish 
things.  But  I  don't  believe  it ;  there  is  some  other 
reason,  probably." 

Then  Eeinhard  read  what  his  mother  had  written  him ; 
when  he  had  finished  and  had  slowly  refolded  both 
letters  and  laid  them  away,  an  overwhelming  feeling  of 
homesickness  seized  him.  He  walked  up  and  down  in 
his  room  for  a  long  time ;  after  a  while  he  said,  almost 
inaudibly  at  first,  and  then  half  aloud :  — 

"  He  almost  strayed  from  duty  — 
The  path  could  not  discern ; 
When  lo !  the  child  stood  by  him 
And  bade  him  homeward  turn." 

Then  he  stepped  to  his  desk,  took  out  some  money,  and 
went  down  into  the  street  again.  It  had  grown  very 
quiet  there  ;  the  lights  on  the  Christmas-trees  had  burned 
out,  the  bauds  of  little  beggars  were  gone.  The  wind 
swept  through  the  deserted  streets ;  both  old  and  young 
were  gathered  together  at  home  in  family  groups;  the 
second  half  of  the  Christmas-eve  festivities  had  begun. 

As  Eeinhard  approached  the  Katskeller  there  came 
to  him  from  below  the  scraping  sound  of  the  fiddle  and 
the  song  of  the  zither-girl  ;  then  he  heard  the  tinkle  of 
the  little  bell  on  the  Eatskeller  door,  and  a  dark  figure 
came  reeling  up  the  broad,  dimly-lighted  stairs.  Eein- 
hard quickly  stepped  back  into  the  shadow  of  a  building, 
and  then  hurried  on.  Soon  he  reached  the  brightly 
lighted  window  of  a  jewelry  store;  he  entered,  and  after 


WHEN  LO!    THE   CHILD   STOOD   BY  HIM.        19 

he  had  purchased  a  small  cross  ornamented  with  red 
coral,  he  went  back  by  the  same  way  he  had  come. 

Not  far  from  home  he  noticed  a  little  girl  in  pitiful 
rags  standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  great  door,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  open  it. 

"  Shall  I  help  you  ?  "  asked  Keinhard. 

The  child  made  no  reply,  but  let  her  hand  slip  from 
the  heavy  door-knob.  Reinhard  had  already  opened  the 
door  for  her  when  he  said :  — 

"  No,  they  may  drive  you  away.  Come  with  me,  I 
will  give  you  some  Christmas  cakes." 

After  closing  the  door  he  took  the  little  girl  by  the 
hand  and  walked  on  with  her  in  silence  until  he  stood 
before  his  own  door.  He  had  left  the  light  burning 
when  he  went  out. 

"  Here  are  cakes  for  you,"  he  said,  as  he  filled  the 
child's  apron  with  the  half  of  all  his  store,  but  among 
them  there  was  not  one  of  those  that  bore  the  frosted 
letters.  "  Now  run  home  and  give  your  mother  some  of 
them." 

The  child  looked  up  at  him  with  a  timid  glance ;  she 
was  evidently  unused  to  such  kindness,  and  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  to  say  in  reply.  Keinhard  opened  the  door 
and  held  his  lamp  to  light  the  way  for  her  ;  and  now  the 
little  one  flew  downstairs  and  was  off  with  her  cakes 
like  a  bird. 

Reinhard  stirred  the  fire  in  his  stove  and  set  his  dusty 
inkstand  on  the  table  ;  then  he  sat  down  and  wrote  and 
wrote,  the  whole  night  long,  letters  to  his  mother  and 
Elisabeth.  The  rest  of  his  Christmas  cakes  lay  un- 
touched before  him,  but  the  cuffs  that  Elisabeth  had 
embroidered  he  had  slipped  on  his  wrists,  although  they 
looked  oddly  enough  with  his  white  woolly  house-jacket. 


20  IMMENSEE. 

t\ 


And  so  he  was  still  sitting  when  the  first  rays  of  the 
tardy  winter  sun  fell  through  the  frosty  window-panes 
and  revealed  to  him  a  pale  and  serious  face  in  the  mirror 
opposite. 


AT  HOME.  21 


V. 
AT    HOME. 

AT  Easter-time  Keinliard  went  home.  The  morning 
after  his  arrival  found  him  at  Elisabeth's  door. 

"  How  tall  you  have  grown,"  he  said,  as  the  lovely, 
slender  girl  met  him  with  a  happy  smile.  She  blushed, 
but  made  no  reply ;  the  hand  that  she  had  given  him  in 
greeting  she  sought  gently  to  withdraw.  He  looked  at 
her  questioningly,  for  this  had  not  been  her  way  before ; 
it  seemed  to  him  that  a  strangeness  had  come  between 
them. 

And  so  it  remained  even  after  he  had  been  at  home 
for  some  time  and  had  spent  day  after  day  with  her. 
When  they  were  alone  together,  a  silence  often  fell 
between  them  which  was  painful  to  Reinhard  and  which 
he  anxiously  sought  to  avoid.  And  so,  for  the  sake  of 
having  an  ever- ready  topic  of  conversation  during  these 
holidays,  he  began  to  give  Elisabeth  lessons  in  botany,  a 
study  to  which  he  had  devoted  much  time  during  his 
first  months  at  the  university.  Elisabeth,  who  was 
used  to  follow  where  he  led,  and  besides  was  always 
glad  to  learn,  readily  agreed  to  this  plan.  After  that,  on 
several  mornings  of  each  week,  there  were  botanizing 
expeditions  out  into  the  woods  and  fields,  and  if  at 
noon  the  two  returned  with  their  green  tin  case  well 
filled  with  plants  and  flowers,  Reinhard  came  again 
in  the  afternoon  to  divide  with  Elisabeth  their  common 
store. 


22  IMMENSEE. 

It  was  with  this  in  mind  that  he  stepped  into  the 
room  one  afternoon  and  found  Elisabeth  standing  at  the 
window  fastening  chickweed  on  a  gilded  cage  he  had  not 
seen  there  before.  In  it  was  a  canary  bird  that  fluttered 
its  wings  and  gave  little  shiiil  cries  as  it  pecked  at  Elisa- 
beth's finger.  It  hung  in  the  place  where  the  bird  that 
had  been  Reinhard's  gift  had  once  hung. 

"  Did  my  poor  little  linnet  turn  into  a  goldfinch  after 
its  death  ?  "  he  asked  merrily. 

"  That  is  not  the  way  with  linnets,"  said  Elisabeth's 
mother  who  was  sitting  in  her  armchair  spinning. 
"  Your  friend  Erich  sent  it  to  Elisabeth  this  afternoon 
from  his  estate  near  here." 

"  From  his  estate  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  About  what  ?  " 

"That  last  week  Erich's  father  made  over  his  second 
estate,  the  one  on  the  Immensee,1  to  him." 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  a  word  about  it." 

"  Well,"  said  the  mother,  "  you  have  not  so  much  as 
asked  a  single  question  about  your  old  friend.  He  is  an 
unusually  good  and  sensible  young  man." 

Then  the  mother  left  the  room  to  prepare  the  afternoon 
coffee.  Elisabeth's  back  was  turned  toward  Reinhard, 
for  she  was  still  busily  weaving  the  green  chickweed  into 
a  leafy  bower' for  her  bird. 

"  Excuse  me  just  a  moment,"  she  said ;  "  I  have  almost 
finished." 

When  Beinhard,  contrary  to  his  usual  way,  did  not 
answer,  she  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  saw  in  his  eyes  a 
sadden  look  of  trouble  which  she  had  never  seen  there 
before. 

1  Lake  of  the  bees.  —  TRANSLATOR. 


AT  HOME.  23 

"What  is  the  matter,  Reinhard  ?  "  she  asked,  stepping 
closer  to  him. 

"The  matter?"  asked  Reinhard  absently,  his  eyes 
looking  dreamily  into  hers. 

"  You  look  so  sad." 

"  Elisabeth,"  said  he,  "  I  cannot  bear  that  yellow  bird." 

She  looked  at  him  in  surprise ;  she  did  not  understand 
him.  "You  are  so  strange,"  she  said. 

He  took  both  her  hands  in  his,  and  she  made  no  effort 
to  withdraw  them. 

The  door  opened  and  Elisabeth's  mother  came  into  the 
room.  After  they  had  had  their  coffee  she  seated  her- 
self at  her  spinning-wheel  and  Reinhard  and  Elisabeth 
went  into  the  adjoining  room  to  arrange  their  plants. 
Soon  they  were  busy  counting  stamens,  carefully  spread- 
ing out  flowers  and  leaves,  and,  at  the  end,  laying  two 
specimens  of  each  kind  between  the  pages  of  a  great 
folio  to  be  pressed.  It  was  a  quiet  sunny  afternoon ;  the 
only  sounds  were  the  whirr  of  the  mother's  wheel  in  the 
next  room  and  Reinhard's  low  voice,  as  from  time  to 
time  he  called  the  names  of  the  orders  and  families  of 
the  plants,  or  corrected  Elisabeth's  faulty  pronunciation 
of  the  Latin  names. 

"I  still  have  no  specimen  of  the  lily-of-the-valley  that 
I  did  not  get  last  time,"  she  said  when  they  had  completed 
the  sorting  and  arranging  of  their  plants. 

Reinhard  took  a  small  white  parchment  folio  from  his 
pocket.  "  Here  is  a  spray  for  you,"  he  said,  taking  a 
partially  pressed  specimen  out  of  the  book. 

When  Elisabeth  saw  the  carefully  written  pages  she 
asked :  "  Have  you  been  writing  stories  again  ?  " 

"No,  they  are  not  stories,"  was  his  answer  as  he 
handed  her  the  book. 


24  IMMENSEE. 

It  was  full  of  poems,  most  of  which  hardly  covered  a 
page.  Elisabeth  turned  leaf  after  leaf;  she  seemed  to 
be  reading  the  titles  only.  "  When  the  schoolmaster  re- 
proved her,"  "  When  we  were  lost  in  the  woods,"  "  The 
Easter  story,"  "  Upon  receiving  her  first  letter,"  and 
so  they  read  on  with  but  few  exceptions.  Reinhard 
looked  at  her  eagerly  while  she  continued  turning  the 
pages.  After  a  while  he  saw  a  soft  pink  creep  slowly 
upward  from  her  white  throat  until  the  sweet  face  was 
quite  suffused.  He  wanted  to  look  into  her  eyes,  but 
Elisabeth  would  not  raise  them.  At  last  she  laid  the 
book  down  before  him  Avithout  a  word. 

"  Do  not  return  it  to  me  in  that  way,"  he  plead. 

Elisabeth  took  a  little  spray  out  of  the  tin  case.  "  I 
will  lay  your  favorite  flower  between  the  pages,"  she 
said,  and  gave  the  book  into  his  hands. 

And  now  the  last  day  of  his  vacation  had  come  and 
with  it  the  morning  when  Reinhard  must  go  again. 
Elisabeth  had  asked  her  mother's  permission  to  accom- 
pany her  friend  to  the  station  from  which  the  stage-coach 
started,  only  a  few  streets  distant  from  the  house.  As 
they  stepped  out  into  the  street  Reinhard  offered  Elisa- 
beth his  arm,  and  then  walked  on  in  silence  with  the  slen- 
der girl  at  his  side.  The  nearer  they  came  to  their 
destination  the  more  he  felt  that  there  was  something 
he  must  say  to  her  before  they  parted,  something  upon 
which  depended  all  that  was  sweet  and  worth  living 
for  in  the  life  before  him;  and  yet  the  right  word 
would  not  come  to  him.  This  troubled  him  and  he 
walked  more  and  more  slowly. 

"  You  will  be  too  late,"  said  Elisabeth ;  "  the  clock  on 
St.  Mary's  church  has  struck  ten." 

But  he  did  not  quicken  his  steps.     At  last  he  stain- 


"  I  will  lay  your  favorite  flower  between  the  pages,"  she  said 


AT  HOME.  25 

mered  forth  :  "  Elisabeth,  it  will  be  two  long  years  before 
you  will  see  me  again.  I  wonder  if  you  will  be  as  fond 
of  me  when  I  come  back  as  you  are  now." 

She  nodded  and  looked  at  him  with  a  friendly  smile. 
"  I  defended  you,  too,"  she  said  after  a  pause. 

"Me  ?  Against  whom  did  you  have  to  defend  me ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Against  mother.  Yesterday,  after  you  had  gone,  we 
talked  a  long  time  about  you ;  she  thought  you  were  not 
as  good  as  you  used  to  be." 

For  a  moment  Reinhard  did  not  answer  ;  then  he  took 
her  hand  in  his  and  looking  steadfastly  into  her  child- 
like eyes  he  said:  "I  am  just  as  good  as  I  ever  was; 
you  may  believe  me.  Do  you  believe  it,  Elisabeth  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

He  let  go  her  hand  and  they  walked  rapidly  on 
through  the  last  streets.  With  every  moment  that 
brought  the  parting  nearer,  the  expression  of  his  face 
grew  happier ;  he  walked  so  fast  that  Elisabeth  found 
it  difficult  to  keep  up  with  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Reinhard  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  have  a  secret,  a  beautiful  secret,"  said  he,  and 
looked  at  her  with  shining  eyes.  "  When  I  come  back, 
at  the  end  of  the  two  years,  I  will  tell  it  to  you." 

They  had  now  reached  the  station,  and  were  barely  in 
time  for  the  coach.  Reinhard  took  her  hand  once  more. 
"  Farewell,"  he  said  ;  "  farewell,  Elisabeth,  and  do  not 
forget  what  I  have  said." 

She  shook  her  head.     "  Farewell,"  she  said. 

Then  Reinhard  stepped  into  the  coach  and  the  horses 
started  ;  as  they  turned  the  first  corner  he  caught  a  last 
glimpse  of  the  sweet  girlish  figure  that  was  so  dear  to 
him  as  she  walked  slowly  homeward. 


26  IMMENSEE. 


VI. 


A    LETTER. 

NEARLY  two  years  had  passed.  Reinhard  was  sitting 
at  his  desk  surrounded  by  books  and  papers ;  he  was 
expecting  a  friend  with  whom  he  had  studies  in  com- 
mon. A  step  was  heard  on  the  stair :  "  Come  in ! " 
called  Reinhard.  It  was  the  landlady.  "A  letter  for 
you,  He rr  Werner,"  she  said,  and  withdrew. 

Reinhard  had  not  written  to  Elisabeth  since  his  Easter 
visit,  and  had  received  no  letter  from  her.  Nor  was  this 
one  from  her;  it  bore  his  mother's  handwriting.  Rein- 
hard  broke  the  seal  and  read ;  soon  he  came  upon  the 
following :  — 

"  At  your  age,  my  dear  boy,  each  year  opens  up  its 
own  fair  prospects,  for  youth  will  not  allow  itself  to  be 
beggared.  But  here  at  home  there  have  also  been  many 
changes,  and  one  of  them,  I  fear,  will  grieve  you  for  a 
while,  if  I  have  read  you  aright.  Yesterday  Elisabeth 
at  last  gave  Erich  her  promise  to  be  his  wife,  although 
she  has  twice  refused  him  in  the  past  three  months. 
She  could  not,  it  seems,  make  up  her  mind  to  it ;  but  now 
she  has  done  so  after  all.  But  she  is  altogether  too 
young,  I  think.  The  wedding  is  to  be  very  soon,  and 
then  her  mother  will  live  with  them." 


IMMENSEE.  27 


VII. 


IMMENSEE. 

AGAIN  years  had  passed.  On  the  afternoon  of  a  warm 
day  in  spring  a  young  man  was  walking  along  a  shady 
road  that  led  down  a  wooded  hill.  His  features  were 
strong  and  bronzed  by  the  sun ;  his  dark  earnest  eyes 
searched  the  distance  as  though  momentarily  expecting 
a  change  in  the  monotony  of  the  scene  about  him,  in 
which,  however,  he  was  disappointed.  At  length  he  saw 
a  man,  walking  beside  a  horse  and  cart,  coming  slowly  up 
the  hill.  "  Halloo,  my  good  friend,"  was  the  traveller's 
greeting,  "  am  I  on  the  right  way  to  Immensee  ?  " 

"  Straight  ahead,"  was  the  man's  reply  as  he  touched 
his  broad-brimmed  hat. 

"  Is  it  far  from  here  ?  " 

"  You  are  almost  there,  sir.  There 's  not  time  to 
smoke  half  a  pipe  full  before  you  '11  get  sight  of  the  lake, 
and  the  house  is  hard  by  the  shore." 

The  man  went  on,  and  the  traveller  hurried  along 
under  the  broad  overhanging  boughs.  After  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  walk  the  shade  on  his  left  came  to  a  sudden 
end,  for  here  the  path  led  along  a  declivity  so  steep  that 
only  the  tops  of  the  ancient  oaks  that  grew  at  its  base 
were  visible  above  it.  Beyond,  a  wide  and  sunny  land- 
scape opened  to  the  view.  Far  below  lay  the  lake,  deep 
blue  and  calm,  surrounded  by  green,  sunlit  woods  save 
only  at  one  point  where  the  eye  could  look  far  away  to 
the  blue  hills  against  the  distant  horizon.  Just  opposite, 


28  IMMENSEE. 

in  the  midst  of  the  green  forest  foliage,  the  trees  were 
white  as  with  new-fallen  snow.  These  were  the  blossom- 
ing fruit  trees,  and  from  among  them,  high  on  the  lake- 
shore,  rose  the  house,  white,  with  red-tiled  roof.  A 
stork  flew  up  from  one  of  the  chimneys  and  circled 
slowly  above  the  blue  waters  of  the  lake. 

"  Immensee  !  "  exclaimed  the  traveller,  and  it  almost 
seemed  as  though  he  had  reached  his  journey's  end,  for 
he  stood  immovable,  gazing  over  the  tops  of  the  trees  at 
his  feet  to  the  farther  shore  of  the  lake,  where  the  stately 
house  lay  mirrored  in  the  quiet  water.  At  last,  with  a 
sudden  start,  he  continued  his  way.  It  led  abruptly 
downward  now,  so  that  very  soon  he  was  walking  in  the 
shade  of  the  trees  that  had  been  far  below  him  only  a 
few  moments  before.  At  the  same  time,  however,  he  lost 
the  outlook  upon  the  lake,  of  which  he  now  only  caught 
a  glimpse  through  the  foliage  here  and  there  as  its  waves 
flashed  in  the  sunlight.  But  soon  his  way  led  upward 
again,  and  the  woods  on  either  side  gave  place  to  vine- 
clad  slopes,  while  the  road  ran  on  between  rows  of  blos- 
soming fruit  trees,  noisy  with  the  hum  of  thousands  of 
busy,  tumbling  bees. 

A  tall,  well-built  man  in  a  brown  overcoat  was  com- 
ing to  meet  the  traveller ;  when  he  had  almost  reached 
him  he  took  off  his  cap,  and  swinging  it  in  the  air  cried 
in  a  cheery  voice :  "  Welcome,  welcome,  brother  Rein- 
hard  !  Welcome  to  Immensee  !  " 

"  God  bless  you,  Erich,  and  thank  you  for  your 
hearty  welcome,"  replied  the  other. 

Then  their  hands  met  in  a  cordial  grasp,  and  as  Erich 
looked  into  the  grave  and  quiet  face  of  his  old  school- 
mate, he  said :  "  And  is  this  really  you,  friend  Rein- 
hard  ?  " 


IMMENSEE.  29 

"  To  be  sure  it  is  I ;  and  you  are  the  same  old  Erich 
except  that  you  look  even  cheerier  than  you  did  in  the 
old  days." 

At  these  words  a  happy  smile  made  Erich's  rather 
plain  features  look  even  more  cheerful  than  before. 

"  Well,  brother  Reinhard,"  said  he  as  he  pressed  his 
friend's  hand  once  more,  "  I  have  reason  to  be,  for  I 
have  won  a  great  prize  since  then,  as  you  know  very 
well."  Then  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully  he  cried: 
"  What  a  surprise  it  will  be !  Of  all  persons  in  the 
world,  she  '11  never  expect  you." 

"  A  surprise  ?  "  asked  Reinhard.     ".  For  whom  ?  " 

"  For  Elisabeth." 

"  Elisabeth  ?  You  have  not  told  her  that  I  am  your 
expected  guest  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word,  brother  Reinhard ;  you  have  not  so 
much  as  entered  her  mind,  nor  her  mother's  either.  I 
kept  it  all  a  secret  so  that  the  pleasure  might  be  the 
greater.  You  know  I  was  always  fond  of  having  a  quiet 
little  scheme  or  two  of  my  own." 

Reinhard  grew  thoughful ;  with  every  step  toward  the 
house  his  breath  seemed  to  come  harder. 

On  the  left  of  the  road  the  vineyards  had  now 
come  to  an  end,  and  in  their  place  was  an  extensive 
vegetable  garden  that  reached  almost  to  the  shore  of 
the  lake.  The  stork  had  alighted  and  with  grave  and 
stately  stride  was  walking  about  between  the  rows  of 
vegetables. 

"  Halloo  ! "  shouted  Erich,  as  he  clapped  his  hands. 
"  Here  is  that  long-legged  Egyptian  stealing  my  young 
peas  again ! " 

The  bird  rose  slowly  in  the  air  and  flew  to  the  roof  of  a 
new  building  that  stood  at  one  end  of  the  vegetable 


30  IMMENSEE. 

garden,  its  walls  green  with  the  boughs  of   peach  and 
apricot  trees  that  were  fastened  against  them.1 

"That  is  the  distillery,"  said  Erich.  "I  built  it  only 
two  years  ago.  The  farm  buildings  were  put  up  by  my 
father,  while  the  dwelling-house  dates  from  my  grand- 
father's time ;  so  each  generation  takes  a  step  forward." 
.  With  these  words  the  two  men  had  come  to  an  open 
court  enclosed  on  the  sides  by  the  farm  buildings,  and  in 
the  rear  by  the  dwelling-house,  from  the  two  wings  of 
which  extended  the  stone  walls  of  the  garden;  beyond 
these  could  be  seen  the  straight,  dark  lines  of  evergreen 
hedges,  while  here  and  there  a  blossoming  syringa  bush 
within  the  garden  drooped  its  heavily  laden  boughs  over 
into  the  court-yard.  Men  with  faces  heated  by  sun 
and  labor  were  going  to  and  fro,  and  passed  the  two 
friends  with  a  respectful  greeting,  while  one  or  the  other 
of  them  received  an  order  from  the  master  or  was  asked 
a  question. 

Now  the  house  was  reached,  and  the  two  men  entered 
a  cool,  high-studded  hall,  at  the  end  of  which  they  turned 
into  a  somewhat  darker  side-passage.  Here  Erich  opened 
a  door,  and  they  stepped  into  a  large,  airy  room  that 
opened  into  the  garden.  The  two  windows  opposite  were 
so  shaded  by  the  luxuriant  foliage  without,  that  at  either 
end  a  soft  green  twilight  pervaded  the  room,  while  be- 
tween them  the  bright  spring  sunshine  poured  in  at  the 
widely  opened  door  which  afforded  a  view  into  the 
garden  with  its  high  vine-clad  walls  and  round  flower 
beds  bordered  by  close-cut  hedges  of  box,  and  divided 
by  a  broad  straight  path  that  led  to  the  lake,  inviting 

1  The  climate  in  Germany  is  not  warm  enough  to  ripen  peaches  and  apricots, 
unless  the  trees  are  raised  on  a  southern  exposure  and  trained  against  a  wall  for 
warmth  and  protection.  —  TRANSLATOR. 


She  stnod  as  though  rooted  to  the  ground 


IMMENSEE.  31 

the  eye  to  follow  it  to  the  water's  edge  and  then  wander 
on  to  the  wood-clad  shores  beyond.  As  the  two  friends 
stepped  into  the  room  the  breeze  through  the  open  door 
brought  to  them  all  the  fragrance  of  the  garden. 

On  the  terrace  in  front  of  the  door  they  saw  a  slender, 
girlish  figure  clad  in  white.  It  was  Elisabeth.  She  rose 
and  came  to  meet  them,  but  after  the  first  few  steps 
stood  as  though  rooted  to  the  ground,  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  stranger.  With  a  smile  Reinhard  held  out  his  hand 
to  her. 

"  Reinhard !  "  she  cried.  "  You  ?  "  and  then  added  : 
"  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  each  other." 

"A  long  time,"  he  repeated,  and  could  find  no  other 
words ;  for  at  the  sound  of  her  voice  he  felt  a  sharp  and 
actual  pain  at  his  heart,  and  as  he  looked  up  she  stood 
before  him  the  same  sweet  and  graceful  figure  that  he 
remembered  so  well  as  he  had  seen  her  last,  years  ago, 
when  he  had  bade  her  good-by  in  the  home  of  their 
childhood. 

Erich  had  remained  standing  at  the  door,  his  face 
radiant  with  pleasure.  "  Well,  Elisabeth,"  he  said,  "  of 
all  persons,  he  is  the  last  one  whom  you  would  have 
expected  to  see ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

Elisabeth's  eyes  met  his  in  a  glance  of  sisterly  affec- 
tion as  she  said :  "  You  are  so  good,  Erich." 

He  took  her  slender  hand  in  both  of  his.  "  And  now 
that  we  have  him,  we  will  not  soon  let  him  go  again,  will 
we  ?  "  he  said.  "  He  has  been  a  wanderer  for  so  long  a 
time  that  we  shall  have  to  teach  him  to  feel  at  home 
again  in  his  native  land.  Just  see  how  like  a  foreigner 
he  looks  and  what  an  air  of  distinction  he  has." 

For  an  instant  Elisabeth's  eyes  were  raised  to  Rein- 
hard's  face,  then  fell  again. 


32  IMMENSEE. 

"  It  is  only  the  change  that  comes  with  years,"  he 
said. 

Elisabeth's  mother  now  appeared  in  the  doorway,  the 
housewife's  bunch  of  keys  in  a  little  basket  on  her  arm. 
"  Why,  Herr  Werner ! "  she  exclaimed,  when  she  saw 
Reinhard,  "  this  is  as  welcome  a  visit  as  it  is  unex- 
pected." And  now,  with  the  many  questions  that  were 
to  be  asked,  and  answers  to  be  given,  the  conversation 
ran  smoothly  on.  The  ladies  had  taken  up  their  needle- 
work again,  and  while  Reinhard  was  partaking  of  the 
luncheon  that  had  been  prepared  for  him,  Erich  brought 
forth  his  huge  meerschaum  and  was  now  sitting  beside 
him,  blowing  great  puffs  of  smoke  as  he  talked. 

The  next  morning  Erich  conducted  his  friend  over  the 
estate  to  show  him  his  broad,  well-planted  acres,  the 
vineyards,  the  hop-garden,  and  the  distillery.  Every- 
thing was  in  excellent  order,  and  the  people  at  work  in 
the  fields  or  at  the  great  vats,  all  had  a  contented  and 
well-fed  look. 

For  dinner  the  family  assembled  in  the  pleasant  room 
that  opened  upon  the  garden,  and  then  more  or  less  of 
the  remaining  part  of  the  day  was  passed  together  ac- 
cording to  the  leisure  of  host  and  hostess.  Only  the  first 
hours  of  the  morning  and  the  last  one  before  the  even- 
ing meal  did  Reinhard  spend  in  his  room,  alone  and  at 
work. 

For  years,  wherever  he  could  find  them,  he  had  been 
collecting  folk-songs  and  rhymes  as  they  lived  in  the 
memory  and  hearts  of  the  people,  and  he  now  set  to 
work  to  put  this  carefully-gathered  treasure  in  order,  as 
well  as  to  add  to  it,  if  possible,  from  the  songs  of  the 
neighborhood. 

Elisabeth  was  at  all  times  sweet  and  gentle  |  Erich's 


I  MM  ENS  BE.  33 

ever-mindful  and  loving  attentions  she  accepted  with  an 
almost  humble  gratitude,  and  the  thought  often  came  to 
Reinhard  that  the  gay  and  happy  child  of  old  had  given 
promise  of  a  less  quiet  woman. 

After  the  second  day  of  his  visit  Reinhard  fell  into  the 
habit  of  taking  a  walk  in  the  evening  along  the  shore  of 
the  lake.  The  path  followed  close  along  the  edge  of  the 
garden  and  ended  on  a  projecting  embankment  where  a 
bench  had  been  placed  under  a  group  of  tall  birch  trees. 
Elisabeth's  mother  had  named  it  the  "  sunset  seat,"  be- 
cause the  place  looked  toward  the  west  and  was  most 
sought  after  at  that  time  of  day  to  get  a  view  of  the  set- 
ting sun. 

One  evening  Reinhard  was  returning  from  his  walk  by 
this  path  when  he  was  overtaken  by  a  sudden  shower. 
He  sought  shelter  under  the  broad  branches  of  a  linden 
tree  that  grew  at  the  water's  edge ;  but  soon  the  heavy 
drops  came  pattering  down  in  spite  of  the  thick  foliage 
overhead.  Thoroughly  wet,  he  resigned  himself  to  the 
inevitable,  and  slowly  continued  his  homeward  way.  It 
was  almost  dark  ;  the  rain  fell  faster  and  faster.  As  he 
approached  the  sunset  seat  he  thought  he  could  discern 
the  white-robed  figure  of  a  woman  among  the  gleaming 
white  trunks  of  the  birch  trees.  She  stood  motionless, 
and  as  he  came  nearer,  he  thought  her  face  was  turned 
in  his  direction  as  though  she  were  expecting  some  one. 
He  believed  it  was  Elisabeth;  but  when  he  hastened 
his  steps  to  join  her  and  return  to  the  house  with  her  by 
the  shorter  way  of  the  garden,  the  figure  turned  slowly 
and  disappeared  in  the  darkness  of  the  by-paths. 

He  could  not  understand  it,  and  almost  felt  resentful 
toward  Elisabeth,  although  he  doubted  that  it  really  had 
been  she  ;  nevertheless  he  shrank  from  questioning  her 


34  IM MENSES. 

about  it,  and  on  his  return  to  the  house  even  avoided 
going  into  the  room  that  opened  upon  the  garden  lest  he 
should  enter  just  as  Elisabeth  returned  to  it  by  the  gar- 
den door. 


MY  MOTHER    WILLED   IT  SO.  35 


VIII. 
MY    MOTHER    WILLED    IT    SO. 

A  FEW  days  later,  toward  evening,  the  family  was  as 
usual  assembled  in  the  favorite  room.  The  door  into  the 
garden  was  thrown  open  ;  the  sun  had  just  disappeared 
behind  the  trees  on  the  farther  shore  of  the  lake. 

Reinhard  was  asked  to  read  some  of  the  folk-songs 
that  a  friend,  who  lived  farther  back  in  the  country,  had 
sent  him  that  afternoon.  He  went  to  his  room  and  soon 
returned  with  a  roll  of  paper  consisting  of  loose,  neatly 
written  pages. 

The  chairs  were  now  drawn  up  to  the  table,  Elisabeth 
taking  the  one  beside  Reinhard.  "  We  will  have  to  read 
at  random,"  he«said,  "for  I  have  not  had  time  to  look 
them  over." 

Elisabeth  unrolled  the  manuscript.  "  Here  are  some 
set  to  music,"  she  said;  "you  must  sing  them,  Rein- 
hard." 

First  came  a  number  of  Tyrolese  Schnaderhiipferl;  ' 
as  Reinhard  read  them,  he  occasionally  sang  one  of  the 
lively  melodies  in  a  low  voice,  and  soon  the  little  com- 
pany was  in  gay  spirits. 

"  But  who  makes  all  these  pretty  songs  ?  "  exclaimed 
Elisabeth. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Erich,  "  that  is  easily  guessed  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  songs  themselves  —  tailor  lads  and 

.  '  A  style  of  folk-song  common  In  the  Swiss  and  Tyrolese  Alps.  It  is  a  merry, 
bantering  rhyme  usually  sung  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  zither.  The  singer 
often  composes  it  on  the  spur  of  tbo  moment  in  answer  to  another.  —  TRANSLA- 
TOR. 


36  IMMENSEE. 

barber  apprentices  and  other  such  careless  and  merry 
folk." 

"  They  are  not  made  at  all,"  said  Reinhard ;  "  they 
grow,  they  drop  from  the  sky,  they  are  wafted  over  the 
land  like  thistle-down ;  hither  and  thither  they  fly,  and 
are  sung  by  a  thousand  voices  in  a  thousand  places  at 
the  same  time.  Our  own  inmost  thoughts  and  sufferings 
are  revealed  to  us  in  these  songs,  and  it  almost  seems  as 
though  we  had  all  had  a  share  in  them." 

He  took  up  another  sheet  and  read  :  "  I  stood  on  lofty 
mountain  "  — 

"  Oh  !  I  know  that  one,"  said  Elizabeth.  "  Begin  it, 
Reinhard,  and  I  will  sing  it  with  you." 

Then  they  sang  the  familiar  melody  —  a  melody  so 
mysterious  and  weird  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  it 
could  have  sprung  from  the  mind  of  man,  Elisabeth  with 
her  low  alto  singing  second  to  Reinhard's  tenor. 

The  mother,  meanwhile,  was  busy  with  her  sewing 
and  Erich  sat  with  folded  hands,  listening  attentively. 
When  the  song  was  ended  Reinhard  laid  the  sheet  aside 
without  a  word.  From  the  shore  of  the  lake,  through 
the  stillness  of  the  evening,  came  the  sound  of  herd-bells  ; 
involuntarily  they  all  listened,  when  suddenly  a  clear, 
boyish  voice  rang  out :  — 

" 1  stood  on  lofty  mountain 
And  gazed  into  the  vale " 

Reinhard  smiled.  "  Do  you  hear  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  So 
they  go  from  mouth  to  mouth." 

"It  is  often  sung  in  this  neighborhood,"  said  Elisa- 
beth. 

"  Yes,"  said  Erich,  "  it  is  Kaspar,  the  herd-boy,  driv- 
ing the  milch  cows  home." 


"  My  mother  willed  it  so  " 


MY  MOTHER    WILLED   IT  SO.  37 

They  listened  a  while  longer  until  the  tinkling  of  the 
bells  ceased  behind  the  farm  buildings. 

"  These  melodies  are  nature's  own,"  said  Reiuhard ; 
"  they  are  born  in  the  depth  of  the  forest,  and  no  one 
can  say  who  it  is  that  finds  and  wakes  them." 

He  took  the  next  sheet. 

It  was  growing  dusk  ;  on  the  tops  of  the  trees  on  the 
farther  shore  of  the  lake  lay  a  shimmer  of  red,  like  foam 
on  the  crest  of  the  wave.  Reinhard  unrolled  the  sheet, 
and  Elisabeth  laid  her  hand  on  one  corner  to  steady  it ; 
then  both  bent  over  it  as  Reinhard  read :  — 

"•  My  love  I  should  forego, 
My  mother  willed  it  so. 
What  my  heart  had  once  possessed, 
Never  more  should  be  confessed ; 
It  would  not  have  it  so. 

"  Let  the  blame  on  mother  rest, 
For  she  willed  not  what  was  best ; 
All  that  fairest  might  have  been 
Now  has  turned  to  darkest  sin. 
Ah,  would  that  I  had  rest ! 

"What  was  once  my  joy  and  pride 
Now  in  grief  and  shame  I  hide. 
Ah,  me,  if  it  were  not  so 
Gladly  would  I  begging  go 
Through  the  world  so  wide." 

While  he  was  reading  Reinhard  had  noticed  a  slight 
trembling  of  the  paper ;  when  he  had  ended,  Elisabeth 
rose,  and  without  a  word  quietly  set  her  chair  aside  and 
went  into  the  garden.  Her  mother's  eyes  followed  her, 
and  as  Erich  rose  to  join  her  the  mother  detained  him, 


38  IMMENSEE. 

saying  that  Elisabeth  had  a  number  of  little  duties  to 
attend  to  in  the  garden,  and  so  he  remained. 

Softly  the  evening  shadows  fell  on  garden  and  lake,  and 
grew  deeper  and  deeper ;  now  and  then,  with  a  whirring 
noise,  a  great  moth  flashed  past  the  open  door  through 
which  the  fragrance  of  bush  and  flower  was  wafted  in, 
growing  stronger  with  the  deepening  night ;  from  down  by 
the  lake  came  the  sound  of  the  frogs,  while  on  a  tree  close 
by  the  window  a  nightingale  began  her  evening  song,  soon 
followed  by  another  within  the  denser  shadows  of  the 
garden.  Slowly  the  moon  rose  over  the  farthest  treetops. 

Reinhard's  eyes  rested  long  on  the  place  where  Elisa- 
beth's slender  figure  had  disappeared  among  the  foliage  of 
one  of  the  by-paths ;  then,  rolling  up  his  manuscript,  he 
bade  the  others  good-night,  and  passing  through  the  house 
walked  down  to  the  lake. 

The  trees  stood  motionless  and  silent,  casting  their  dark 
shadows  far  out  over  the  water,  while  beyond,  toward 
the  middle  of  the  lake,  its  unruffled  surface  gleamed  in 
the  faint  moonlight.  Now  and  then  the  trees  stirred 
with  a  soft  rustling  sound,  but  there  was  no  wind ;  it 
was  only  the  sobbing  breath  of  the  summer  night. 
Reinhard  followed  the  edge  of  the  lake.  A  stone's  throw 
out  from  the  shore  he  saw  a  white  water-lily  floating  on 
the  surface.  He  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  hold  it  in  his 
hand,  and  quickly  throwing  aside  his  clothes  he  stepped 
into  the  water.  It  was  very  shallow,  and  thorny  plants 
and  sharp  pebbles  hurt  his  feet  as  he  walked  farther  out 
into  the  lake  but  still  did  not  find  sufficient  depth  to 
swim.  Then  suddenly  the  bottom  was  gone  from  under 
him ;  in  swirls  and  eddies  the  dark  water  closed  in  above 
him,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  came  to  the  surface. 
Then,  with  hands  and  feet,  he  struck  out  and  swam  about 


MY  MOTHER    WILLED   IT  SO.  39 

in  a  circle  until  he  had  located  the  place  where  he  had 
entered  the  water.  Soon  he  discovered  the  lily  also; 
white  and  lonely  it  floated  among  its  great  dark  leaves. 
Slowly  he  swam  toward  it,  now  and  then  lifting  his  arms 
out  of  the  water  to  watch  the  drops  sparkle  in  the  moon- 
light as  they  fell  back  into  the  lake.  But  he  seemed  to 
come  no  nearer  to  the  flower,  although  the  shore  had  re- 
ceded more  and  more  into  the  dim  distance  every  time 
that  he  glanced  back  at  it. 

He  would  not  abandon  his  undertaking,  however,  but 
swam  on  vigorously  in  the  same  direction.  At  last  he 
was  so  near  the  flower  that  he  could  distinguish  each 
silvery  petal  as  it  glistened  in  the  moonlight,  but  at  the 
same  moment  he  felt  himself  entangled  in  a  network  of 
the  smooth,  swaying  stems  that  reached  up  from  the 
bottom  of  the  lake,  and  had  twined  themselves  about  his 
naked  limbs.  The  unfamiliar  sheet  of  water  stretched 
in  inky  blackness  all  around  him  ;  behind  him  he  heard 
the  splash  of  a  leaping  fish.  Suddenly  he  was  seized 
with  such  a  dread  of  the  treacherous  element  about  him 
that,  with  an  effort,  he  tore  himself  loose  from  the  en- 
tangling stems  and  in  breathless  haste  swam  back  to  the 
shore.  When  he  had  reached  it  he  looked  back  at  the 
lily  which  floated  on  the  black  water  as  lonely  and  dis- 
tant as  before. 

He  dressed  himself  and  slowly  returned  to  the  house. 
Here  he  found  Erich  and  the  mother  engaged  in  prepa- 
rations for  a  short  journey  which  had  to  be  undertaken 
in  the  morning. 

"  Why,  where  have  you  been  so  late  at  night  ?  "  the 
mother  exclaimed  as  he  entered. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  I  wanted  to  make  friends  with  the  water- 
lily,  but  I  did  n't  succeed," 


40  IMMENSEE. 

11  Now,  what  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  strange  fel- 
low ?  "  said  Erich.  "  What  under  the  sun  did  you  want 
with  the  water-lily  ?  " 

"Oh,  the  water-lily  and  I  were  good  friends  once," 
was  Reinhard's  answer ;  "  but  that  was  long  ago." 


ELISABETH.  41 


IX. 


ELISABETH. 

THE  following  afternoon  found  Reirihard  and  Elisa- 
beth wandering  along  the  farther  shore  of  the  lake,  at 
times  keeping  close  to  the  water's  edge,  at  others  roaming 
farther  away  into  the  woods:  Elisabeth  had  been  commis- 
sioned by  Erich  during  his  absence  to  show  Reinhard  all 
the  prettiest  views  of  the  vicinity,  and  these  were  princi- 
pally to  be  found  on  the  other  side  of  .the  lake,  looking 
toward  the  house.  The  two  were  now  going  from  one 
point  to  another  ;  at  last  Elisabeth  grew  weary,  and  sat 
down  to  rest  in  the  shade  of  some  overhanging  boughs, 
while  Reinhard  stood  at  a  little  distance  leaning  against 
the  trunk  of  a  tree  ;  as  he  looked  at  her  the  call  of  a 
cuckoo  came  to  them  from  farther  back  in  the  woods. 
Reinhard  had  a  sudden  feeling  that  all  this  had  been  so 
once  before ;  with  a  sad  smile  he  said:  "  Shall  we  look  for 
strawberries,  Elisabeth  ?  " 

"This  is  not  the  time  for  strawberries,"  was  her 
answer. 

"  But  it  will  be,  soon,"  he  said. 

Elisabeth  shook  her  head ;  without  a  word  she  rose,  and 
they  continued  on  their  way.  As  they  wandered  on, 
side  by  side,  his  eyes  were  drawn  to  her  again  and  again, 
for  she  was  so  graceful  and  light  of  step.  At  times  he 
unconsciously  fell  back  a  step  or  two  that  he  might  have 
her  before  him  as  he  walked.  Soon  they  came  to  an 
open  space  where  they  could  look  far  away  into  the  dis- 


42  IMMENSEE. 

tance  and  where  the  ground  was  overgrown  with  a  low 
heath.  Reinhard  stooped  to  break  one  of  the  little  plants 
at  his  feet,  and  when  he  raised  himself  and  turned  to 
Elisabeth,  his  face  wore  a  look  of  bitter  anguish. 

"  Do  you  know  this  flower  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him  questioningly.  "  It  is  an  Erica,"  she 
answered.  "  I  have  often  found  them  in  the  woods." 

"At  home,"  said  Reinhard,  "I  have  an  old  book  in 
which  I  used  to  write  all  sorts  of  rhymes  and  poems,  but 
it  is  a  long  time  now  since  I  have  opened  it.  Between 
its  pages  lies  an  Erica,  but  it  is  withered  and  brown.  Do 
you  know  who  placed  it  there  ?  " 

Elisabeth  nodded,  but  did  not  speak ;  her  eyes  fell  and 
rested  on  the  little  plant  he  held  in  his  hand.  So  they 
stood  for  some  time  ;  at  last  Elisabeth  raised  her  eyes, 
and  then  he  saw  that  they  were  wet  with  tears. 

"  Elisabeth,"  he  said,  "  behind  yonder  blue  mountains 
lies  all  the  joy  of  our  youth.  What  has  become  of  it  ?  " 

They  said  no  more,  but  in  silence  went  on  together  to 
the  shore  of  the  lake.  The  air  was  sultry  and  heavy ; 
on  the  western  horizon  dark  clouds  were  rising.  "  We 
are  going  to  have  a  storm,"  said  Elisabeth,  and  hastened 
her  steps.  Reinhard  nodded,  and  without  a  word  they 
hurried  ou  along  the  water's  edge  until  they  reached  the 
place  where  their  boat  lay  moored. 

While  they  crossed  the  water  Elisabeth  sat  with  her 
hand  resting  on  the  rim  of  the  boat.  As  he  rowed,  Rein- 
hard  glanced  over  at  her,  but  she  was  looking  past  him 
into  the  distance  beyond,  and  so  his  eyes  wandered  down 
from  her  face  and  rested  on  her  hand ;  and  what  the 
quiet  face  had  refused  to  reveal  the  white  hand  betrayed 
to  him.  He  saw  upon  it  those  faint  lines  that  suffering 
traces  on  the  fair  hands  of  women  if  at  night  they  lie 


Elisabeth  sat  with  her  hand  resting  on  the  rim  of  the  boat 


ELISABETH.  43 

crossed  over  an  aching  heart.  Slowly  the  slender  hand 
slipped  down  into  the  water  as  Elisabeth  became  con- 
scious of  the  look  that  rested  on  it. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  house  they  saw  a  scissors- 
grinder's  cart  standing  before  it.  A  man  with  long,  curly 
black  hair  was  busily  turning  the  wheel  with  his  foot, 
while  he  hummed  a  gypsy  melody ;  at  his  side,  panting 
with  heat  and  fatigue,  lay  the  dog  that  was  harnessed  to 
the  cart.  In  the  doorway,  clothed  in  rags,  stood  a  young 
woman  whose  dark  and  once  beautiful  features  were 
marred  by  lines  of  sin  and  suffering.  At  Elisabeth's 
approach  she  held  out  her  hand  for  alms.  Reinhard 
thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  but  Elisabeth  anticipated 
him  and  emptied  the  entire  contents  of  her  purse  into 
the  girl's  outstretched  palm.  Then  she  turned  quickly 
and  Reinhard  heard  a  sob  as  she  hurried  up  the  stairs. 
He  followed,  and  would  have  detained  her,  but  stopped 
and  turned  back  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

The  gypsy  woman  still  stood  in  the  doorway,  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  money  in  her  hand.  "  What  more  do  you 
want  ?  "  asked  Reinhard.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she 
started.  "  Nothing,  nothing  more,"  she  said  ;  then,  with 
her  face  turned  toward  him  and  her  wild  eyes  riveted  on 
his,  she  slowly  left  the  house.  He  spoke  a  name,  but  she 
did  not  hear  him ;  with  bowed  head,  and  hands  crossed 
over  her  bosom,  she  followed  the  man  and  the  cart. 

"  Too  soon  I  must  die, 
And  die  alone." 

The  old  song  rang  in  Rein  hard's  ears  ;  he  caught  his 
breath,  and  stood  a  moment  longer,  then  he  turned  and 
went  to  his  room. 


44  IMMENSEE. 

There  he  sat  down  to  his  work,  but  he  could  not  fix  his 
mind  upon  it.  After  an  hour's  fruitless  endeavor  he  went 
downstairs  and  into  the  living-room.  There  was  no  one 
there ;  the  room  was  pervaded  by  the  usual  cool,  green 
twilight;  on  Elisabeth's  sewing-table  lay  the  red  ribbon 
she  had  worn  that  afternoon.  He  picked  it  up,  but  laid 
it  down  again,  for  its  touch  hurt  him.  He  felt  restless 
and  went  down  to  the  water ;  there  he  unfastened  the  boat 
and  pushed  out  into  the  lake.  He  rowed  across  to  the 
other  shore  and  went  again  to  all  the  places  that  he  and 
Elisabeth  had  visited  together  only  a  few  hours  before. 

When  he  returned  to  the  house  it  had  grown  dark  ;  on 
the  way  he  met  the  coachman  taking  the  carriage  horses 
to  the  pasture  ;  the  travellers  had  just  come  home.  As 
he  entered  the  hall  he  heard  Erich's  footstep  in  the  liv- 
ing-room, but  he  did  not  join  him  ;  after  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation he  turned  and  went  softly  up  the  stairs  to  his 
room.  There  he  seated  himself  in  au  armchair  by  the 
window  ;  he  tried  to  believe  that  he  was  listening  to  the 
nightingale  singing  in  one  of  the  hedges  down  in  the  gar- 
den, but  he  heard  only  the  beating  of  his  own  heart. 
Below  stairs  in  the  house  the  familiar  sounds  gradually 
ceased  and  all  was  still ;  the  hours  passed,  but  he  did  not 
heed  them.  Thus  he  sat  the  whole  night  long ;  at  last 
he  rose  and  leaned  far  out  of  the  window.  The  dew  was 
dripping  from  the  foliage  ;  the  nightingale's  song  was 
hushed ;  gradually  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  came  into 
the  eastern  horizon  and  the  darkness  of  night  gave  Avay 
to  the  dawning  day.  A  fresh  breeze  sprang  up  and 
fanned  Reinhard's  hot  forehead ;  a  lark  rose  in  the  air, 
singing  its  jubilant  song. 

Suddenly  Eeinhard  turned  and  stepping  to  the  table 
felt  about  on  it  for  a  pencil ;  when  he  had  found  it  he 


He  turned  to  look  at  her  once  more 


ELISABETH,  45 

sat  down  and  wrote  a  few  lines  on  a  sheet  of  paper. 
As  soon  as  he  had  finished  he  took  his  hat  and  cane  and, 
leaving  the  paper  on  the  table,  softly  opened  the  door 
and  went  downstairs. 

In  all  the  corners  the  dark  shadows  still  lingered ;  the 
great  house-cat  lay  stretching  itself  on  the  straw  mat ; 
it  rose  at  Reinhard's  approach  and  arching  its  back 
rubbed  itself  against  his  hand  which  quite  unconsciously 
he  held  out  to  it.  Without,  in  the  garden,  the  sparrows 
were  at  their  matins  in  every  bush  and  tree,  proclaiming 
to  the  world  that  the  night  was  gone. 

Xow  Keinhard  heard  a  door  opened  somewhere  in  the 
house  above  him,  then  a  step  upon  the  stair ;  some  one 
was  coming  down.  He  turned,  and  Elisabeth  stood  before 
him.  She  laid  one  hand  on  his  arm;  her  lips  moved, 
but  no  sound  passed  them.  At  last  he  heard  her  say : 
"  You  will  never  come  back  again.  I  know  it ;  do  not 
deny  it.  You  will  never  come  back." 

"  No,  never,"  said  Eeinhard. 

Her  hand  fell  from  his  arm  and  she  said  no  more.  He 
crossed  the  hall  to  the  door  ;  there  he  turned  to  look  at 
her  once  more.  She  was  standing  motionless  just  where 
he  had  left  her,  only  her  eyes  followed  him  with  a  dull 
look  of  despair.  He  took  one  step  toward  her  and  held 
out  his  arms ;  then,  with  an  effort,  he  turned  and  hur- 
ried out  of  the  door. 

Without,  the  world  was  bright  with  the  fresh  light  of 
the  young  day;  the  pearling  dewdrops  hung  on  every 
cobweb  and  flashed  in  the  first  rays  of  the  sun.  Kein- 
hard did  not  once  turn  to  look  back,  but  hastened  on ; 
farther  and  farther  he  left  behind  him  the  quiet  house 
from  which  he  had  just  passed,  and  before  him  lay  the 
great  wide  world. 


46  I. MM  ENS  EE, 


THE    OLD    MAX. 

THK  moonlight  no  longer  fell  in  at  the  window,  and 
it  had  grown  quite  dark  ;  but  the  old  man  still  sat  in 
his  armchair  with  his  hands  folded  in  his  lap,  gazing 
into  the  shadowy  room  before  him.  Gradually  the 
familiar  scene  vanished,  and  in  its  place  stretched  the 
dark  waters  of  a  lake,  one  black  wave  after  another 
rolling  away  before  him  into  the  gloomy  distance,  and 
on  the  last,  so  far  away  that  he  could  scarce  discern  it, 
a  white  water-lily  floated  lonely  among  its  broad  dark 
leaves. 

The  door  was  opened  and  the  bright  light  of  a  lamp 
fell  into  the  room.  "  It  is  well  that  you  have  come, 
Brigitte,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Set  the  lamp  on  the  table, 
please." 

Then  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  table  and,  taking 
up  one  of  the  books  that  lay  open  upon  it,  he  was  soon 
absorbed  in  the  study  to  which  he  had  given  all  tho 
strength  of  his  youth. 


28465 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 


APR  2  Q  19790 


ATE  DUE 


APR  06*78 


C139 


UCSD  Libr. 


m  f\j-\  21  HI II  III II  III l|  Illl  III) 


